Read It: Breath of Bones

The calm before the storm in Breathe of Bones #1.

Responding to a prompt about revenge in class this past week (an activity for thematic background building during our study of Beowulf/Grendel's mother section of the epic poem), a student inquired as to the spelling of a character's name from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy: "Is Gollum spelled G-O-L-E-M?" This incorrect spelling of the ring-thirsty Sméagol prompted me to ask if anyone in the class knew what a golem (G-O-L-E-M) was.

Though familiar with "Gollum", not a single student had heard of a "golem" before. Simply put (thanks to Wikipedia) "In Jewish folklore, a golem is an animated anthropomorphic being, created entirely from inanimate matter. There are many tales differing on how the Golem was brought to life and afterwards controlled." Like much of the smaller pieces of information I have trapped in my skull, the kernel of my own basic understanding of a golem was planted by my having read both books about monsters and things-that-go-bump-in-the-night as a child and from a healthy dose of comic books. Very recently there was a Dark Horse comics three issue mini-series that portrayed a fairly realistic depiction of that same creature, Breath of Bones: A Tale of the Golem.

Written by horror star Steve Niles (perhaps most well-known for creating 30 Days of Night to non-fanboys) and beautifully illustrated in blacks, whites and grays by Dave Wachter, when released, Breath of Bones came in under my comic book radar. I have made the mistake before of missing less heralded mini-series, and later being unable to catch up with them in single issues. Fortunately on this occasion, thanks to my local comic shop and a quick read of numerous glowing reviews, I was able to correct my error early on in the three issue run.

With the Nazi's closing in, grandpa and the townspeople get to work in Breath of Bones #2.

One could easily make the inaccurate assumption that Breathe of Bones is a rock'em sock'em historical super hero comic book, especially based on the beautiful covers to each of the three issues. While there is a tremendous amount of action therein, the slow burn toward the creature's reveal and origin suggests a classic monster movie. In a nutshell, from Dark Horse's own website, Breath of Bones is the story of a "giant clay monster from Jewish legend... on a Nazi-killing rampage in order to protect the inhabitants of a small Jewish stronghold and an injured British pilot." It is also a story of loss, both personal and that of innocence, sacrifice, and honor set against the back drop of World War II. Breathe of Bones is also a story about the power of storytelling, tradition, belief and family. Best of all is that there are Nazi's being pounded into submission by a monster...

From Breath of Bones #3.

Breath of Bones is a miniseries that inspires me to continue to promote the value of the genre as a viable and engaging (and teachable) text. Yes, while occasionally some works, most notably Art Spiegelman's Maus, reach a level of acceptability becoming "canon" of sorts, lesser known titles with content such as Breath of Bones would seem to be natural gateways to discussion in a variety of academic disciplines. Until then, I strongly recommend picking up the title either in individual issues (as is my collection mode of choice), trade paperback, or in the more recent beautifully executed hardcover edition. Unlikely to be read only once (or thrice) and relegated to your longbox or bookshelf, Breath of Bones is a title which bears repeated readings.

Comic Books, Catholicism & Easter

A very old postcard depicting St. James Church in Irondequoit, New York.

I remember May 1981 vividly. As a Catholic school elementary student, that morning I was called, along with the entire school, to the church during class to pray for the life of Pope John Paul II. There had been an assassination attempt on his life and Catholics, as well as others, the world over were shocked by this. I was in sixth grade at the time, and having already put in a few years of service as an altar boy (back before they were called the gender neutral term "altar servers"), though unsure how to process these events, I recall being saddened by the attack on the only papal leader I had ever really been aware of. Given the duration of his papacy, 1978 until 2005, Pope John Paul II's "rule" would turn out to be the defining one of my Catholic life.

In addition to being a (relatively) "good" Catholic school student in sixth grade, I had also already begun my love affair with comic books, in particular, those published by Marvel. The adventures of Spider-Man and, especially, the Fantastic Four had become a hobby of my friends and I, and weekly bicycle trips to the comic book store became as much a part of my weekly routine as visits to church on Sunday mornings.

At the time, my childhood parish of St. James Church in Irondequoit, had three racks of books, missiles and pamphlets for sale to parishioners in the main entrance way to the church. I rarely came in through the front door because  my altar boy duties required me to arrive early and I therefore would come in the back entrance near the sacristy. The only time I found myself in the entrance way foyer was while serving mass--this was the point from which the priest, servers and lectors would begin the procession at the start of mass.

Regardless of how many times I had gone through the motions, the waiting at the start was always a time of nervousness as I would scan the arriving parishioners to see who I recognized, and would mentally review the proper times to ring the bells and carry the various religious accoutrements from location to location on the altar. Waiting for the organist to start the processional hymn, I would often scan the pamphlet and book cover titles, mostly in an effort to prepare for my duties.

Written by Steve Grant with art
 by John Tartaglione.

I don't think I ever actually read any of the titles of the books, though I recall the pictures on the covers: images of saints preaching to the masses, holy Sisters and Fathers bravely walking from bright lights, hands raised to impart blessing, and real world photographs of hungry and sick people suffering throughout the world. After a while, these collections of covers became like wallpaper, that is until one day I noticed a cover that combined both my love of comic books and my affection for our pontiff: in 1982 I noticed a cover depicting an illustration that looked very much like the Holy Father.

After mass had ended, and the wine cruet had been washed and the robes returned to the hangers, I went back to the racks to more closely inspect what I had thought was a Pope John Paul comic book. I was very pleasantly surprised to see that this was not one of those crudely produced "religious comic books" I had on occasion seen in school, but an honest-to-goodness, real-life, comic book published by "Marvel Comics Group"! The cover announced that this issue included "The Entire Story from his childhood to the assassination attempt" in bold, red letters. For more than a brief moments I considered "borrowing" the issue to read.

But I never did. Nor did I buy it. Worse yet, to my recollection, The Life of Pope John Paul II never graced the new comic releases rack at the local comic shop (though Older Me now realizes that comic book speculators may have snatched them all upon release), so I never had a chance to purchase it. Realistically, I may not have bought it anyway as my spare change was very limited and, sorry to say, the latest adventures of the Fantastic Four would likely have trumped any religious adventures comic.

Regrettably, like a treasured back issue, my youthful affection for Catholicism and the late Holy Father, have been remanded to my personal history long box. Much like pulling a fifteen year old back issue of Fantastic Four, however, during the high holy days of the Catholic calendar such as Easter Sunday, my nostalgia for the church of my youth and the comfort attending gave me prompts me to consider the possibility of giving that one back issue another read.

Odd Inferences & Allusions: Life of Passion?

"One's ability to find meaning in literature is dependent on how broadly and deeply read he or she is." I often share this assertion while teaching high school English literature classes. When doing so, I invite my students to do as I do: always look for literary allusions in contemporary media. Like many, though, it very often takes viewing one "thing" (television show, movie, song, etceteras) in the light of another to make the connection, make the inference or spot the allusion.

For example, during this most recent Winter Recess, I took advantage of the time to catch up on reading, television viewing and going to the movies. Despite a wide array of "sources": comic books, novels, poetry, action films, reality television and flights of fantasy, some connections--and eventually allusions--presented themselves to me.



While Krishna may have a
universe in his mouth...

...can the same be said of
Jack Passion's beard?

First came reality television. Though often depicted in the very niche reality show Whisker Wars, as self-centered and egotistical, former full-beard World Champion and multi-media icon Jack Passion, strikes me as, is if nothing else, a literate individual. (Full disclosure: I identify myself as a fan of Passion's, much to my wife's dismay.) He often alludes to ideas or quotes, whether intentionally or not, in his sound bites. One such occurrence struck me during last week's second season finale of Whisker Wars on the IFC television network. During the course of one outburst of bravado, Passions asserts that "I have the universe on my chin." When I first heard it, I tweeted it to the inter-webs (and Passion, in turn, kindly re-tweeted it, too!), but gave it little thought beyond that online interaction.

At the same time, I had began reading Yann Matrel's Life of Pi, a novel I had long intended to take in, but had lacked either the time or access to a copy. This recess, I had both.

By no means the original source for the quote, there is a small exchange in the book (and as I later observed, the movie adaptation directed by Ang Lee), that touches on a story of Krishna, the eighth incarnation of Lord Vishnu, as a youth. The set-up for the story's telling (on pages 54-55 of the novel) is this: Krishna and his foster-mother Yashoda were in the garden together. One day Krishna, as usual, was playing in sand. During this act of play he swallows, or eats the sand/dirt/mud. Krishna, like any child, denies doing so. Mother Yashoda requests to look in Krishna's mouth to better discern whether he is telling the truth. Here is the heart of the "lesson" from a more formal telling of the anecdote "A Story of Young Krishna", which in the novel is recollected by Pi and in the film by his mother to him:

And the Lord [Krishna] who had become a human child out of sport, without any loss of His divine powers, now opened His rosebud mouth. She bent forward to peer more closely and lo! she felt herself to be whirling in space, lost in time, for inside the baby mouth was seen the whole universe of moving and unmoving creation, the earth and its mountains and oceans, the moon and the stars, and all the planets and regions. She was wonderstruck to see the land of Vraja and the village of Gokula, herself standing there with the child Krishna beside her with a wide-open mouth, and within that mouth another universe, and so on and on and on.

Within Krishna's mouth is the whole universe (in fact, universes), while in a bit of hyperbole, Passion asserts that his beard (which he has also famously compared to an exploding volcano of red lava) also contains a "universe." So, is this purported (by me) allusion to Krishna's tale a stretch on the part of the reader (once again, moi)? Maybe, but the connection is there nonetheless... though the emphasis may be rightly placed on "less." If  "One's ability to find meaning in literature is dependent on how broadly and deeply read he or she is," then these moments of connection are available for identification all around us, IF we can connect those dots resulting in a (marginally) reasonable inference!



From Ang Lee's Life of Pi (2012).

Peace Amid Congestion

St. Francis of Assisi(7/27/12)?

During one of our days in Boston we did the common touristy thing of simply walking some of the streets, specifically the narrow side streets of the North End. During this time we saw many historical (The Paul Revere House) and cultural (Mike's Pastry on Hanover Street), and among the most moving was the statuary/garden outside the Saint Leonard of Port Maurice Church in Boston's North End. The question mark after the caption above is intentional. One thing I did a poor job of doing while there is writing down who each statue was of: the final picture on this post was the only one I was able to track down online. It is my understanding that Saint Leonard's is run by Franciscan friars so I'm hoping my caption above is accurate. (if someone knows otherwise, please let me know.)

The Blessed Virgin Mary (7/27/12).

The North End is Boston's oldest residential community, where people have lived continuously since it was settled in the 1630s, it is North Square area was known as Little Italy. It therefore makes sense that there would be a strong Catholic presence and the Port Maurice Church Garden is reflective of that. While not the much more frequented (and touristy) Old North Church (which I unfortunately did not take the opportunity to see), there was a serene calmness to be experienced here.

Statue of Blessed Padre Pio (7/27/12).

A likely byproduct of a lifetime of Catholicism, I can't help but find something meditative in the silence of a statuary, especially one in the heart of such a vibrant metropolitan area. After stopping by Mike's Pastry for a cannoli, we happened to wander into the garden, and found ourselves lingering for a few minutes as we took in the various saintly statues. For some reason, we never made it into the church (or the adjoining Gift Shop for that matter) though I understand it to be similarly "Old World" in its presentation.

Sometimes in Catholicism, as in many things, a little taste is enough to maintain the spirit...